Consolation Prizes
by ifonlynotnever
Summary: ONE SHOT. Suguru POV. SuguruEiri. He just told me that I'm like Shuichi. Oh, and he wonders why I look like I'm going to have a horse.


**Consolation Prize**

_**fluorescentpinkfairies**_

**Disclaimer** : _Gravitation_ belongs to Maki Murakami. I am not Maki Murakami. Therefore, I do not own _Gravitation_.

**---**

_"Hmmm... Come to think of it... Seguchi-san and I also share the same taste in men."_

_--Fujisaki Suguru, Gravitation Volume 5_

---

Yuki Eiri-san watches me with suspicious lion-colored eyes, as though expecting me to pounce on him and fuck his brains out at any moment.

I won't. I swear.

"So, what kind of stunt are you trying to pull this time?"

That voice shakes me out of my thoughts and back into the present, where the acrid scent of cigarette smoke is currently filling my lungs. I try not to gag.

Doesn't he know secondhand smoke kills? Doesn't _Shindou_ know that secondhand smoke kills?

"Stunt?"

"Why the hell else would you be here?"

"Perhaps I came to see Shindou," I sniff indignantly.

He snorts.

"Yeah, right. And I'm the Buddha."

"Are you?" I challenge, feeling rather stupid even as the words filter from my mouth. "And what's wrong with coming to see my _bandmate_?"

He ignores my first comment. "Idiot. Your bandmate's not here, obviously, because he's at the concert hall, rehearsing before_ your_ concert. What are you, playing hooky or something?" He exhales a cloud of smoke. "Don't answer that. Just cut the crap. What the hell do you want?"

...I can't remember, actually.

"Or did Seguchi send you as a little spy?"

That _bastard_.

I'd never do that. Well, maybe not _never_, because Tohma – Seguchi-san – can be _really_ convincing (read: _scary_) when he wants to be. But no, that's not why I'm here. No. It's because...

Because...

Um...

Because...

"Well?"

Remembered!

"Are you coming to the concert?"

He snorts before stubbing out his smoke, reaching into his pocket, and lighting up another one.

"Who's asking?"

"Shuichi," I lie.

Another snort.

"Stop lying, kid."

"I'm not ly-"

"You are. Shuichi asked me this morning. He got his answer."

"He forgot."

"He didn't. Tell me who's asking and I'll tell you the answer."

"Tohma."

"Tohma. Just cut the crap, kid."

So...frustrating...!

Who does he think he is, calling me 'kid'? I'm 16, goddammit. He has no right at all to call me that!

...Well, considering that he's, like, 22 or 23, maybe he does...

"Nakano. K! K-san asked."

He glares at me with those suspicious eyes.

It's all Shindou's fault. Yes. It is. Because if he hadn't been so emotionally hung up over Yuki-san, I wouldn't have ever gotten involved in the situation. I was doing it for _Bad Luck_, okay? I didn't get involved because I hated or liked either of them particularly well. I did it for the _band_.

"Bullshit."

I'm desperate but the hell if I'm going to let it show.

Dammit!

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No," Yuki Eiri says, and gives me a challengingly cold grin. "I'm not going to the concert. How about if I say that?"

"...I don't care. I'm not the one asking."

He smirks.

I frown.

"You know what, kid? I think I kinda like you."

"Am I supposed to be honored?"

"Just like Tohma, trying to control everything," he tells me, ignoring my previous comment, "But you're a brat, just like Shuichi."

I can't conceal the utter horror on my face.

He breathes out a stream of smoke. I could swear he's smiling.

Horror.

Me? Like Shindou? _ME? _Like _SHINDOU!_ That temperamental child who can't work when his precious lover puts him down and kicks him out of the house? That crybaby who gets emotional over _everything_ and who claims to have complete dedication to music but who quit Bad Luck god-knows how many times?

Like _Shindou?_

_ME?_

"Dammit, where's my camera when I need it?" Yuki Eiri drawls.

"A brat like _Shindou?_"

* * *

_"...But you're a brat, just like Shuichi..."_

Dear god, no...

_"...just like Shuichi..."_

It's so much akin to a nightmare. I hate being compared to Shindou. I don't want to be Shindou. But I'm a brat _like Shindou!_

It's not even the fact that the sophisticated and renowned romance author Yuki Eiri called me a _brat_.

_"...just like Shuichi..."_

Please. Just let me die.

"Hey, Fujisaki, what's up?" Nakano asks me. I blanch.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Yeah! We're going to ROCK!" Shindou butts in right before he goes on his merry, sugar-and-adrenaline paved way.

Eehh...

_"...just like Shuichi..."_

No... I'm not like that... am I?

"Hey, Nakano..."

"Yes?"

"...Am I a brat like Shindou?"

* * *

I love playing at concerts. I love the way that I'm on the spot, pressured to do everything right and in the spotlight as it sweeps the stage. I love the way that music pounds in my veins and fills my head to the point of explosion. 

Damn good thing, too. Every time I get distracted, there's that _voice_ whispering to me.

But the performance goes well, as is expected. I'm only the background, of course, but I'm not bitter. I swear. Nope. Just because Shindou gets all of the attention and spotlight, no I'm not jealous. I mean, I'm only the one who spruces up all of the songs that we do because his talent with the synth isn't nearly as good as mine...

Oh, no, not bitter at all.

I press my palms onto the keyboard, producing a sour note that echoes through the empty room where I've lugged it.

"Sulking?"

Acrid smoke fills my lungs, and I try to smother my coughs.

"Just like Shuichi."

This... this is the voice of my daymares... These... these are the words of my daymares...

I resist the urge to scream as I turn to face Yuki Eiri. Again.

"You look like you're going to have a horse."

"_Why?_"

"Did I come?" He shrugs.

"No. _Why do you keep comparing me to Shindou?_"

He shrugs again.

If Seguchi-san wasn't so scary, I would kill this son of a --

"Wait. Why aren't you _with_ Shindou?"

"I told him I wasn't coming."

"So you're surprising him."

"No."

"Then why did you come if not for Shindou?" I pester.

He looks annoyed. Good. As childish as it may be, I'm trying to get him back for causing me all this internal grief.

"God. You wanted me here, didn't you? So shut up and enjoy it."

I wanted him here? Where the hell did that come from?

"I _wanted _you here?"

He lights up another cigarette.

"Why the hell did you ask if I was coming if you didn't want me here?"

"It was just a simple question, Yuki-san!" I panic.

"You came all the way to my house... just to ask a stupid question that you didn't mean?"

Yes! Yes, I did! Because you're Shindou's boyfriend and I have no intentions of _wanting you here_.

Really.

Because I am in no way attracted to Yuki Eiri.

Nope.

I wanted him here.

I did.

It's been driving me crazy. I like Shindou's boyfriend. I _want_ Shindou's boyfriend.

It's just another reason for that brat to drive me crazy. He has everything I want. He has the spotlight. He has the supportive and caring best friend. He has the charisma.

He has Yuki Eiri.

Sometimes, when I see him bawling over some insignificant thing or other, I want to smack him upside the head and yell at him to look around and see what he has and what I don't have because he's Shindou Shuichi, rock star, and I'm just Fujisaki Suguru, synth prodigy.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!

I don't really hate him, of course – it's just a silly little hatred of a five-year old, as ashamed as I am to say it. It's petulant jealousy, but as much as I want to feel like I've overcome it by now, it's not true, and I cling to it tighter and tighter as time goes on.

At times like these, I really wish I was a bit more forgiving.

"Hm." A smug smirk plays upon Yuki Eiri's lips. He's won and he knows it.

I stare at him defiantly, unwilling to admit it. I'm sick of losing to other people. I'm just sick of losing. Losing to Shindou Shuichi, losing to Seguchi Tohma, losing to _everyone_, but especially – especially losing to _Yuki Eiri. _I just want to win... Just want to win against him. The person who matters the most at this moment.

Because he does. He matters the most.

At this moment, he matters more than the perfect performance. More than being better than Nittle Grasper. More than music.

It's so frustrating.

I don't want to be like _Shindou_ because Shindou is an annoying brat that he puts down and throws out of the house and plays with physically and psychologically before dumping him. I don't want to be like Seguchi-san to him either, because Tohma is an overbearing mother hen who he sneers at and avoids when he can.

Why can't I just be Fujisaki Suguru?

"You didn't have to come. I asked. You didn't have to."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a long drag on his cigarette.

"Just enjoy it while you can."

_"You know what, kid? I think I kinda like you."_

Is that my consolation prize? Is that all I get because I have, once again, lost? The fact that he thinks I'm amusing?

Yes. I suppose so.

"So. _Are_ you sulking?"

"Perhaps," I admit slowly, energy draining out of me.

_My consolation prize. I should just enjoy it._

"Besides. The after-concert end-of-tour parties are always too loud. I'd rather practice."

He doesn't nod, only takes another drag on the cigarette.

"So practice."

I hesitate.

Practice? While _he _is in the room?

And then, slowly and against my rational judgment, my fingers settle on the familiar keys.

This is just one of those rare things that I'm better at than Shindou; playing the synthesizer and the keyboard and things in the piano family in general.

I always wanted to be like Tohma. Ever since I was a small child and I saw him practicing at the grand piano he had, ever since I saw him bring life to Sakuma Ryuichi's lyrics, ever since I went to his first concert and was captured not by those same lyrics but by the way that the music flowed and twisted impossibly; ever since then, I've wanted to be like Seguchi Tohma.

I'm never sure if I'm good enough. I'm never perfectly, one-hundred-percent sure that I'm better than him.

And I know that I'll never be better than Shindou.

"Mm. You're pretty damn good, you know that?"

I turn back to him, startled.

"What?"

He shrugs, turning away and taking an extra-long drag on his cigarette.

I can hardly breathe. Lung cancer, here I come.

But… I smile.

And for the merest of moments, I could almost swear that he's wearing a whisper of a smile on his lips…

And maybe, just maybe, that's my real consolation prize.

----

**Author's Space**

Because there are about two EiriSuguru fics that I know of in the archive. So the archive needed one more. Sue me. And the HiroSuguru fics are starting to choke me, there are so damn many of them. Does _no_ one really like Ayaka?

I feel like Eiri is out of character…

Original title: _Like Shindou_. Makes sense.


End file.
